11:15 pm, Friday, The Temple of Hephaestus on the Northwestern side of the Acropolis
Aaron drew on the marble bricks with the chalk he had in his bag. The rain and thunder drowned out any noise that would have disturbed him, and so he was left with only his rapid thoughts as they rushed through his mind like whitewater. It occurred to him at some point that he had already more-or-less exhausted the 20 minute time limit given by his driver-
'What was his name again? Did he give his name?', but this was only a minor concern in the present moment.
He had originally planned on climbing the Acropolis. The entire area around the acropolis was a hub for leylines, which was typical for sites of such significance, and it was by far the best place in Athens for this type of ritual, but he had been defeated by the pouring rain and steep and slick marble paths. Even if he had reached the top, there would be no worthwhile place to draw without having the rain wash away his magecraft like all the children's drawings on the streets below. And so, he was here instead, taking shelter in the Temple of Hephaestus, one of the only semi-completed ruins in the area, the rest destroyed by Persian invasion, and the second best place on the Acropolis grounds for his work.
He had only barely been able to reach the grounds in the first place, adjusting the magnetism and polarity of the tall, metal fence to aid his climbing over with his metal-tipped boots. Thankfully, a section of fence was visible only from a back alley, and was empty of foot traffic even during the day. It only served as an additional road for tourists to get lost on.
He had tried to fry the cameras on top of that, but the damn things were storm protected, and the weak static he could muster wasn't nearly enough. Sending lightning to strike the camera from above with runes would only attract attention to the area, and so he continued on, hoping the wards on his munitions box, which he had only barely managed to throw over the fence, would help him should he not be able to leave tonight. The last thing he needed was to get arrested right before the War began.
The bruises on his left shoulder and knee still ached from where he had fell on his way here, and he still felt pangs of a phantom pain from his shoulder, though he knew enough to know this was all in his head. Between this, the stress of the moment, and his drenched clothing, he was more than slightly miserable, though still frenzied with anticipation.
Completing the last piece of the circle, he got up from his kneeling position and took several steps back, admiring his handiwork.
'This is really happening.'
He caught himself just before he became completely overwhelmed, and walked with haste over to the black box which sat just behind him to his left. Gingerly removing the rusted blade from inside, he took it and placed it just in the circle, right on the edge of the chalk.
He raised his right hand in front of him, and clasped his left over the Seals that had appeared on his right shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he began to recite the chant he had written. According to MacMannan, the exact words didn't matter so much; all that mattered was that your words contained your complete will.
"Heroes lost in time,"
White sparks began to emerge from the circle. Was that supposed to happen?
"My will makes your body,
"My commands give you life,
"and your life brings our victory."
The circle sputtered before finally generating a semi-consistent light. He could feel heat radiating from under his clenched left hand; a soft red glow emerged in the periphery of his vision.
"You are called to bring victory
"all for the sake of your unfulfilled wish.
"O bringer o' light,"
He had added this line in hopes of calling Cu Chulainn, but left it ambiguous enough that, should his Servant of choice refuse, another could be called in his place.
Completing the prelude, Aaron's left hand abandoned its position on his shoulder and reached into his pants' pocket, pulling out a butterfly knife. He felt his heart seize briefly as he cut his hand, clenching it to cause the blood to drip onto the circle, and uttered the final words of the ritual,
"FILL! FILL! FILL!"
Light erupted from the circle as a pillar of pure, liquid gold. Aaron couldn't help but take a step back, his mind and body left paralyzed by the majesty of the moment. The light became more intense, as if trying to break free of its cylindric bonds- until it burst. Aaron was blinded, his vision was nothing but white, and a metallic hum reverberated within his skull. Raising his head from his hands, his blurred and shifting vision did all it could to comprehend the figure in front of it.
The form, revealed by gold and white specs of ether that still circulated through the room like fireflies, was a man in silver armor that seemed to glitter in the low light. His long hair glowed with golden radiance, as did designs across his armor: small circles falling off into elaborate cursive lines. The armor was odd too; tight fitting silver metal that only existed in the imagination of men. There were darker spots as well around the joints: dark green, almost jade metal that didn't reflect the light nearly so brilliantly as the rest of the armor, but which made the athletic figure before him all the more intimidating. A mask matching his armor disguised his face, but was open at the back to allow his glowing hair to flow out, hair which seemed to float somewhat as the figure moved, as if it were underwater. A thin line like the ones across his armor lay across the mask where his eyes would be, cementing the air of complete inhumanity.
The figure stared directly at Aaron, his posture and mask concealing any intent. The figure suddenly straightened his back and placed his right hand, a fist, over his heart.
"Servant Rider, and thou art mine master, aye?
Oh boy.
'I thought MacMannan said there wouldn't be a language barrier?'
Mustering all the confidence he could, Aaron stood straight up, doing his best to retain his dignity despite being caught off guard, not to mention the simple fact of the figure being easily... no... at least half-a-foot taller than himself, not to mention more muscular, and more impressive...
"Yes, I am your Master, Rider." He spoke as formally as he could, putting on airs in an effort to impress the mystery man. "With your help, I hope to obtain the Holy Grail in a war taking place not long from now in yo-"
"I'm sorry?"
Interrupted in the middle of his performance, Aaron lacked the state of mind to prevent the pitiful "Huh?" prompted by Rider's question.
"T'would seem thou art mistaken, mine Master, for the war hast already begun, or were thee under some other impression?"
On some level Aaron had suspected this- but it still came as a shock, his mind reeling with both surprise and fear. His heart fell into his stomach as he did his best to remain calm despite the dizzying revelation.
"How do you know?"
"Can't thee sense it in the air? Thine war is here and thine war is now. The energies within the earth, awakened from their slumber, are bouncing 'round like a herd of cats."
"Cats don't travel in herds."
"Jump the point, lad."
Between the figure's accent and old fashioned manner of speech, it was difficult for Aaron to discern the exact meanings behind Rider's words, but he understood enough. Rider's deep and echoing, almost metallic voice seemed to express itself in the way it reverberated through the air, communicating the deeper sentiment behind the words. There was a Holy Grail War here in Athens, not in Ireland, and it had already begun.
'How did this happen?
'Who's behind this? MacMannan?
'What am I supposed to do now?
'What do I tell Jason?
'What's really going on here!?'
He took a deep breath and continued to extract answers from his newfound Servant, a Servant apparently wise to the current magical goings-on, or at least more knowledgeable than himself.
"Can you trace the energy to its point of origin?"
The entity knelt onto the ground, focused for a moment, and then stood once more, putting his shoulder towards Aaron but still turning his head to face his Master. "Nay, tis much too erratic to trace, at least with mine own limited talents. Perhaps with the right knowledge of magecraft it could be'est possible, but, as thou know, I am indeed Rider, and not Caster."
Establishing that there wasn't anything in particular that could be immediately done about the situation, no further knowledge to be gained that he could think of in the moment, another, perhaps more pertinent question entered Aaron's jumbled mind, one so obvious he felt embarrassed for not addressing it sooner.
"Who are you, Rider?"
The silver figure answered without missing a beat, "Didst thee not just answer thine own question? I am a Servant of the Rider class, did summon by the Holy Grail."
Aaron approached Rider, who was still standing in the center of the circle, and reached down, picking up the sword used as a relic. The sword had remained perfectly intact, perhaps it was even in better condition upon closer inspection. He could feel himself maddening, but lacked the will to keep his composure.
"Do you know what this is? Do you, Rider!?" His voice raised beyond what he had intended, cracking somewhat.
"T'is the sword of one Connla. I wilt commend thee for being able to obtain such an artifact; I imagineth tis very valuable in this time."
"So you do know?"
"Is't not right for a father to recognize his son's blade?"
Aaron stumbled back. His heart seized, but he needed to confirm this.
"Y-you.. you're Cu Chulainn."
"I recall declaring nay such thing."
"What? But you said Connla's your son. Doesn't that mean that-"
"I hast many sons. Connla is but one, albeit a tragic case."
It was a rollercoaster for Aaron. Shock into frustration, into shock and back. With Rider's last words his frustration escalated once more. However, before Aaron could utter even as much as a noise, his mind caught up with Rider's dated manner of speech, and he understood the implications of the exchange. His eyes went wide, and his jaw fell to the floor. Without even realizing, he suddenly felt his hands press against the outer wall of the temple despite being unable to take his gaze off the ethereal entity who continued to remain perfectly still except for his flowing hair.
A warm glow emanated from Rider's face plate, as if smiling with a paternal glow.
"You-"
Rider raised his hand to silence Aaron.
"Thou art very clever, mine Master, but hold thy tongue. This place being as it is, neither thee 'r I could hope to to detect our enemies' watchful eyes. The time for proper introductions shall come, but we might not but find shelter first. Doth thee have somewhere we may wend?"
Aaron began to look around, despite not being able to see anything beyond the inner walls of the temple.
"I don't know. I wasn't planning on staying here."
He thought for a moment.
"My workshop is a long ways away, it would take all night to get there."
"Unwise. A Servant shouldst not leave the leylines from which he was called for fear of losing his form."
"Well, I don't have a workshop here in the city."
"Thee couldst at any moment make one, can thee not?"
"That's true, but it wouldn't be very good."
Aaron took out his wallet and looked at his debit card absentmindedly.
"If we bought a hotel room and-"
"Or perhaps we could set a camp here. I am rather fond of this place."
"What?"
"I'm able to feel the history and mysticism of this locale. Tis comfortable to me, and shouldst be'est suitable for magecraft, aye?"
"Well, yes, but there are complications with that-"
"Couldst these 'complications' be'est overcome?"
Aaron began to protest Rider's ignorance, before other thoughts began to occur to him. Maybe this was possible now that Rider was here? He was already on the grounds after all. Besides that, the Acropolis was undoubtedly the best place to power a Servant of Rider's caliber, and he didn't want to think about the ramifications of refusing a king's request...
"If things go wrong, you'll have to bail me out; you know that don't you? That may mean revealing yourself, or hurting bystanders. Are you okay with that?"
"I shall do what is behovely, but nothing more."
"And I wouldn't ask anything else of you."
Aaron said this despite having no idea what 'behovely' meant.
A maniacal grin crossed Aaron's face as he formulated his master plan, sitting cross-legged on the floor to hash out the details in his mind, murmuring to himself. Rider watched, apparently both curious and amused, before wandering about the small space, looking around with awe like a child on a field trip, or at least that was the feeling given off by his cold and unmoving masked visage. The rain and thunder still poured outside, creating unique patterns on the walls between the ethereal light from Rider and the flickering city lights outside.
As it would turn out, Rider was right to be as cautious as he was, for indeed there was someone viewing them from afar, taking full advantage of the unfolding chaos.
The time was 11:33.
....